BloodRoses Crackle
by Azure-VortexDragon
Summary: A power hidden in a few select cats. A power that makes them gods. It has been countless moons since they were last seen. Considered tales only to frighten kits. None thought them to be true. But with the resurgence of the most terrifying and devastating one of their kind, it seems the stories were true. And now, the clans face a danger they have not seen in many moons. (Magic AU)
1. Prologue: Revenge

Prologue: Revenge

A single form lay there on the floor, in filth, in the dark. Its whimpers unheard by any who would show mercy to the lifeless soul. The silver tom was beaten over, keeled onto the rough stone cave floor. His hearing couldn't discern whether the trickles around him were the slight stream of raindrops running through the cave floor, or the pool of blood developing around him. A flash of a red eye. A single claw hack. The final breath of the victim and the final cry it had. There he lay, cold and unmoving. Every semblance of living being removed.

The shadowed cat smiled, padding out into the light from a small hole dent in the roof, revealing a brandishing red flame coat of the disastrous she-cat, "Oh you were brave. You let your kits escape."

She put a claw on the lifeless carcass beneath her, "Bravery is the fallacy of the weak. You should know that." She began gently pushing him deeper into the cave until they reached a small ditch in the ground. Her claws flicked up, every kill, every mark. She would leave a signature on him, on every death.

"Don't worry. I will find them. You will be reunited soon enough. Although you did cause me a bit more trouble." Her eyes flickered briefly with frustration.

"But nevertheless, I must do what I must. And you must be what you are." She bent down to corpse's ear, "Forgotten."

And with that final word, she shoved the blood-soaked, silver body of the dead tom into the ditch, water flooded around the body as she exited the cave. Padding out into the forest clearing she began giggling madly. Unsheathing her claws, she struck the air in the direction of the cave, erupting it into a torrential burst of flames.

"Oh yes, I must do what I must." She flicked her ears. The flames of her work reflecting of her yellow blazed eyes, "After a hundred moons asleep."

A brilliant pearl of flame erupted around her body.

"The world must remember, ScarletFlame."

* * *

The pants of the three kits were exacerbated as they ran along the dried litter of the dense forest floor. A silver-black kit collapsed to the floor, tripping over a small pile of leaves until she fell face first into mushroom patch beneath a large, old oak tree.

"I can't go any further!"

The high-pitched yelp cried out to her brother and sister ahead, they ran back to help her up, "We have to get going, if we don't run, she'll get us." Her brother, a black tom meowed with haste as he grasped at her scruff.

Her sister, a cream coloured she-cat, ran behind her and attempted to shove her up, "Come on Silver, we have to go! That crazy she-cat is going to come for us any moment now!"

Silver screeched, her paw was stuck under the roots of the oak tree, "I'm stuck!" She cried in fear.

Her sister opened her mouth to speak when an explosion was heard. The three kits turned their heads behind them, to the cave they had ran from, the one their father desperately defended them, demanding they leave. The she-cat was done with him. They were after them now.

"Please help me!" Silver cried, as she desperately struggled, pushing against the mushrooms and leaf litter on the floor in a final attempt to wiggle free. She turned around tugging with all her strength at the thick roots with her teeth and with her claws, to no avail.

She finally looked back up, at her siblings standing above her. They looked at each other with a silent conclusion, they stared back down at Silver, a tear rolled down her sister's face, "We're sorry." A silent whisper in the wind, like the whistling of wind through the forest canopy.

It struck in Silver's heart. As terror engulfed her face, seeing her sister and brother run as fast as they could away from her. She could just barely make out the outline of the single white streak running along the belly of her brother's otherwise dark pelt. _Traitor_.

She lay there, a paw still held under by the roots of the oak tree. Her head still face planted in a pile of dead leaves and mushrooms with unknown origins. She looked with trembling sight at the blank spot where her siblings… Where _they _left her to. Through the undergrowth and out of sight, leaving her as a sacrifice to the she-cat. Her paws trembled, her eyes pinned at the bush, darkness and void filled her body. As all she saw was a dark patch where they had been. She would never forgive them, she will get her revenge. She will end them just as they had attempted to leave her here like. With a crack like lightning, she tore away the roots of the oak, a burning darkness in her heart. A desire only to paint the world with nothing but void and death.

Her face contorted into not pain, but madness. A brilliant silence ensued, only the crows cawed, a mockery of her. A calling, a challenge.

"Oh."

A whisper sounded behind her. Silver knew who it was, the one who chased them all.

"What's this? A soul left behind, how heartless of them."

She didn't have to turn her head to know of that crazed smile that was painted across her face.

"Well it's expected, fear does these things to people. They make them think differently, give nothing of themselves, make nothing of themselves." A giggle sounded through the clearing.

Silver's eyes were still stuck on the undergrowth her so called 'siblings' left her through. Her fear of the she-cat had washed away, all she wanted now was to get her revenge on them.

"You don't know why I chase after you, do you?"

Silence throughout the forest, not even the crows cawed.

"You three are special, you are like me. Born with power gifted upon us. But with such power. They fear us, they fear me." The she-cat padded slowly up to Silver, her flames gently caressing her back, giving her warmth she didn't know she desperately needed. The day was fading to night, the beginnings of dusk, the coldness of the night.

"Oh yes they are scared of me, they ought to be. But you. You understand this now. So come, let me show you what you can learn. You can use those powers of yours to paint this world with silver despair."

The flames wrapped around Silver, they pierced through her body and grasped at her coat. But there was no pain, nothing could give her pain. That pain of betrayal, there was nothing that would hurt her more. All emotions of her faded away into a silver slate of nothingness. The crows that were just then, crowing for a challenge faded into uneasy silence, their bodies huddling together as a silver streak began glowing towards them, reaching out from her body. It extended like a silver branch towards the fearful crows as they became a ball of black and white feathers, trying to fly away but being stuck in fear, their feet and wings not moving on command. An irrational feeling, an impulsive one.

_Fear_.

A flash of silver erupted from her body striking the crows with spikes through their hearts. They had no time to react, their lifeless bodies flung to the ground, strewn among the dead leaves, just like them. Red blood did not dapple the leaves but one of silver, a thick liquid, glittering of nothing, like a blankness that stands out glowing. It spilled from the carcasses, spreading across the forest floor like a plague.

The red she-cat smiled, a true smile, one of glee, one of joy. She whispered into Silver's ear, "I knew you had it in you, young one."

She padded up closer to her, standing in front of her, above her eyes. Silver's eyes had not left the ground, the trail they had abandoned her by. But now, slowly, she lifted her eyes to her new mentor, something she had wished for in her youth in the nest of her mother.

"Come now little one, come with me and you will get what you desire."

The yellow and red eyes now came into view, burning with passion, a desire just like hers.

"Revenge!"


	2. Allegiances and Clarifications

Allegiances and Clarifications

Allegiances:

Rimeclan

Leader: Flakestar-An elder tom with white fur and blue eyes, his wisdom is considered unparallel to any. (FC)

Deputy: Snowstorm-A lively but stern she-cat with silver-blue fur. (MC-Blizzard)

Medicine Cat: Dappledrop-A slender white and black tortoiseshell she-cat. (MC-Shroud)

Warriors:

Vinewing-A young greenish-blue coat tortoishell she-cat with a delicate attitude. (MC-Plants)

Ringtail-A blue tom with a defining ringed tail form. (FC) Apprentice: Finpaw

Frostjaw-A white and black tom with a powerful bite, he is over-protective of his sister, Dappledrop. (MC-Strength/Fury)

Friskleap-A cream-coloured she-cat with slender but powerful hind legs. (FC)

Icecrow-A dark black tom with an icy attitude. Without any close kin, he is hostile and dark. (MC-Unknown)

Oakroot-A brown tom with a steadfast attitude and a mischievous smile. (FC)

Glowfur-A bright white she-cat with a bright and cheery attitude. (FC) Apprentice: Primpaw

Skywisp-An experienced white and blue tom. (FC) Apprentice:Gustpaw

Rippletail-A light blue and white she-cat with striking blue eyes. (MC-Water)

Rubypelt-A glowing red she-cat with a cheery attitude. (MC-Lithomancy)

Pondswipe-A dark brown and black tabby tom who has a lovable and hearty nature. (FC)

Saplingfoot-A brown tom with silver streaks through his pelt. (FC)

Petalpool-A light orange she-cat with a giggly attitude, despite her bubbly attitude, she is saddened and haunted by the horrors of her past. (MC-Plants/Water)

Soaringstrike-A light blue and silver tom with a feisty attitude, always ready to get into a fight and defend the pride and integrity of the clan. (FC)

Aetherdream-A white, silver and blue streaked she-cat, she originated from far outside of the clans and was brought in as a kit, she has no memories of her past. She is quiet-spoken and doesn't take part in the clan much. (?)

Elders:

Ol'Mahogany-An elder brown tom whose name was unofficially changed by others, he is one of the few believers of the Troths. (FC)

Maneroar-A veteran orange warrior retired early by a scar to his eyes that damaged his ability to see the surroundings well. He is still a feisty warrior and hates being confined to the elder's den. He is a weird exception to Rimeclan with a unique colour and magus that has not been seen in Rimeclan ever before. (MC-Flame)

Apprentices

Primpaw-A gentle white and silver she-cat with a kind heart. (FC)

Finpaw-A silver tom with a brilliant mind and a fun attitude. (FC)

Frillpaw-A silver-black she-cat with a defining frill around her neck. (FC)

Gustpaw-A grey tom with silver streaks across his body. (MC-Wind)

Queens:

Licheneyes-A pretty black and grey tortoiseshell she-cat with green emerald eyes. (FC)

Kits:

Mosskit-A black and brown tom with a more laid-back attitude. (MC-Plants)

Rainkit-A grey she-kit with a playful and lively attitude. (FC)

Canopyclan

Leader: Shatterstar-A young and ambitious yellow and orange tabby she-cat. (MC-Mirage)

Deputy: Crowstrike-A quiet spoken black tom with a tactician's mind. (FC)

Medicine Cat: Breathwind-A dreary smiling tom whose heart is kind and eyes' warm. (FC)

Warriors:

Leafswipe

Newttail

Pierceclaw

Duskclan

Leader: Darkstar-A tom with a black as night pelt and sharp, unnerving eyes of yellow. (MC-Shroud)

Deputy: Barkfur-A thin tom with beige and light brown colourations. (FC)

Medicine Cat: Mosseyes-A green streaked, dark she-cat with glazed and unfocused white eyes. (FC)

Warriors:

Lunawing

Jaggedjaw

Heronflight

Cinderclan

Leader: Fallenstar

Deputy: Emberwing

Medicine Cat: Timberwhisker

Warriors:

Novaspark

Swarmpelt

Pantherleap

Cats outside the clans

Halos-A loner tom with a brown and red pelt who wanders the clans, well known and well liked, he is always ready to help. (FC)

Solari-Halos' sister, a white and brown kittypet who enjoys the cushy life. She didn't want to be a loner anymore so found a nice twoleg family to take her in. She is still a fighter at heart though and ready to come to Halos' aid if anything happens to him. (FC)

Bearer of the Mystical-It is unknown whether this cat is a spirit or a living being nor of its gender. But the Bearer of the Mystical is a dreamish being with a transparent coat and eyes that sparkle like the night stars. It hangs around the mystical forest and goes where it goes. (?)

Speartail-An exiled cat, he was once a leader of a group of cats that worshipped the old beliefs of the Troths and the dominance of the MagusCats. That group has since been losing power, weakened by being exiled from the clans and with no where to go. He now leads a small group of loyalist and new recruits waiting by the sidelines for a time to strike back. (MC-Thorns)

The Legion of BloodRose

ScarletFlame-A terror-inducing she-cat thought to be a mythical folk-tale character. She had a brandishing coat of red and yellow streaks. (T-Devastation)

SilverFear-A small silver-black she-cat. She is virtually emotionless only focused on one thought in mind, revenge against her siblings who abandoned her. (T-Fear)

Key: FC-FreeCat, MC-MagusCat, T-Known Troths, MC-?-Known MagusCat with unknown abilities, ?-Unknown

PS: Current Allegiances subject to change, will post updates in later chapters for a full one.

Clarifications:

In this universe, cats exist normally, known as FreeCats or as magical ones. The magical ones are called MagusCats. MagusCats can use basic magical abilities like telekinesis and basic element control. Most cats become specialise and train to harness their specific born powers further, but these have side effects and are very difficult. MagusCats use their life force to fuel their powers and so usually die earlier than FreeCats. However, very few cats are Troths. Troths are cats where they first appear as FreeCats as an illusion, however growing up or triggered by certain experiences, they can become Troths. Troths utilise a specific power, usually in the form of an emotion or a belief. While MagusCats and Troths can be hereditary making it more likely for those with Magus or Troth parents to be one themselves, they also can be from random chance. Not much more is known about them.

Despite not having magic, FreeCats were never oppressed by those who had magic, this was because those who wielded magic were vulnerable to having their power ripped from them. A special material, called Siphorus, which since has been banned could be worn by FreeCats to absorb the magic around them. This allowed them to siphon off magic of MagusCats or their surroundings to develop their own magic. Since MagusCats' life forces were tied to their magic, this was extremely deadly to them and FreeCats and MagusCats learnt to live together, with MagusCats contributing heavily to the assistance in fighting and hunting.

Does Starclan exist in this world? In some respects, Starclan is seen as rather a faith than an actual being in this world. It has been moons since any last manifestation has been reported while medicine cats gain visions and signs presumably from them but never see them.

A/N: If you guys want further clarification on this unique world, I would be happy to make specialised chapters to detail every niche thing, especially those I did not clarify or speak about in the story. Just keep in mind I might not touch on a few things related to the story so yeah. Also, if you would like to submit OCs that would be gladly appreciated as I currently have no thought up of most of the cats for Canopyclan, Duskclan and Cinderclan. Thank you and I hope you enjoy my new story.


	3. Chapter 1: New Memories

Chapter 1: New Memories

"You're not really the best at fishing, Soaringstrike." The orange she-cat purred in amusement.

Soaringstrike looked up, a small orange figure stood above him, blocking the sun casting a dark shadow over him. She had a paw on her snout, gently giggling with her eyes closed, a smile stretching across her face. He, on the other hand, was a big bundle of wet blue and silver fur flopped over by the riverbank. His back was planted against the slippery rocks of the river, the icy stones melted by the on setting greenleaf. He was flayed across the ground, half his body submerged by the river, the other half being poked by his sister, Petalpool. His cheeks burnt up, red with embarrassment, his pride damaged. If there was anything the he disliked, it was his pride being damaged. He looked at her face as she stepped back allowing the sunhigh sun to flash in his eyes, forcing him to wince. A sparkled glinted in her eyes, a cheeky smile plastered across her orange face. He groaned and rolled his eyes at her.

"It's not like I have the ability to just churn through the water, whisking through the water for fish ya' know?" He grumbled, picking himself up and shaking his thick, wet coat dry. The droplets splashed everything around him, wetting every surface around him.

Petalpool's fur was all wet, drenched from his violent shake-off as she glared at her brother, grumbling, "Thanks…"

Soaringstrike flashed a cocky smile, one that she wanted to swipe off his face along with a few tufts of his silver fur and whiskers, "Well now, how ironic."

He let out a loud chuckle as he dodged the swiping paws of hers. He looked at the pouting she-cat, young and feisty, ambitiously strong. It bore almost no resemblance of her kit moons, a little scrap, a runt. Yet she hauled on through, she hadn't let her parents shun her and she sure as won't let her brother do too. He purred with amusement as she swiped his snout again, landing a solid hit on his snout, "Alright, alright I'm sorry sis."

He apologised with a chuckle. His sister just rolled her eyes before closing them. All of a sudden the droplets strung through her coat vibrated, lifting themselves, breaking away from her orange fur. The droplets were flung around her in a ring as he looked in amazement. He had always been fascinated by his sister's powers. One of the few cats among all the clans to wield two specialisations. He once envied her, letting it go when he reminiscence of how she struggled being a disowned runt. The ring imploded sending a spray of water dissipating in the wind. She turned her face to look at her brother, a light exasperated look was plastered across her face, her eyes blew up in mock anger.

"You know you're lucky I can just dry myself up in no time. My fur is so bundled that it would have been impossible to do otherwise!" She let out a huff and turned her back to him.

Soaringstrike laughed, "Well that's a good thing I suppose."

She relaxed her shoulders and purred along, "True."

She whipped her head focused back on him, her eyes blazing with new found energy and motivation, "Well come on! The prey won't hunt themselves!"

She snapped back around and began trotting into the lightly packed woods. Soaringstike tilted his head, a bit confused by his sister, "Hey where are you going?"

She looked back at me her eyes seemed to display a slight annoyance and impatience, "To the hunting clearing obviously."

Her rolling eyes were matched by his glazed, confused ones, "But the river is here?"

A playful smile dragged itself across her face, "Yeah but you can't fish."

Soaringstrike shook his head, unclear where she was going with this, "Yeah but you could, couldn't you?"

His sister flashed a sassy smile with her eyes glinting with condescending playfulness, "I mean I would, but I'd rather not have to pull you out of the river every fifteen mouse-patters."

He rolled his eyes, annoyance brimmed his face, but he returned her smile, "I guess so, maybe you could just hunt and I'll…"

She immediately shook her paw, her eyes closing and her face dipping down, hiding her smile as well, "Nuh uh! I'm not going to let you off that easy, you big, fat, lazy oaf!"

She purred at her insult, while he just flicked his ears and eyes up and retorted, "Yeah well I don't think its fair to hunt where you won't catch anything."

He paused, looking at her eyes as she cocked her head waiting for the continuation of his remark, "Cause I'll have caught them already."

Her eyes widened as she straightened her eyes on him with intent. Her tail swished around as she began to cackle, "Alright Cocky, then let's do this."

She padded up towards him, wrapping one paw around his back while pointing the other into the dimly lit, smaragdine woods, directed at the clearing, "Whoever can catch the most prey from the clearing before the sun begins to sink wins!"

Soaringstrike shook her paw off him and padded in front of him eagerly staring into her eyes, "Alright, but I feel like a bet would complete this."

His own smile began developing, a wide, enveloping smile, one that signified his devious plan coming to, "Whoever loses has to clean out the elder's den. I heard Maneroar is a wee bit grumpy at the fact that the apprentices haven't had the opportunity to because of the speeding up of the training."

Petalpool grumbled with her head looking down to the side back at the riverbank, "Maneroar is always grumpy, I doubt it has anything to do with the bedding."

She shook her head and blinked, her eyes burning, reinvigorated by the prospect of a challenge, "But whatever, you're on!"

"Then let's get to it!" He declared trotting towards the trees, his sister not far behind him.

* * *

They padded through the tree, twisting and turning through the thick bushes and undergrowth. The leaves cascaded down around them, the dim light seeping through the newly formed crevices in the few holes above. The clearing they were going to were rich in prey and with greenleaf around the corner, no doubt they would be able to catch a tremendous amount of prey.

Soaringstrike breathed deeply, his home, his life, his place in the world is here. The scent of mint clovers and the receding cold wafted through the air, it lifted the spirits of the place as his sister began humming a tune. Sunshine continued to phase through the canopy above, fracturing into many small spots, breaking up through the leaves as they begun to near the clearing. Residue snowflakes were melting in the cold undergrowth below and the ground would still stay partially in ice even throughout the greenleaf. But whatever soil did melt was cushy and comfortable to walk upon, dry enough to stand on, wet enough for the cooling feel to relieve aching paws. It was home, cold in nature, warm in comfort. It had always been a cold place living next to the mountainsides anyways, the vast myriad of territory differences they had made them adapt, made them resilient. He had always believed that this made the clan strong, impervious to enemies. He shook his head, he knew where this train of thought would bring him. Besides, it was in the past, hopefully it would only be remembered as a footnote in history. Yet deep inside him, it burrowed through him. His thoughts were broken by his sister's sudden stop, "We're here."

He looked around, padding past her. The birds whistled overhead, thrushes and crows cawed at them. Soaringstrike stared forward towards the clearing centre, a single tree sprouted from the rough topsoil, a tall tree that the founders of Rimeclan had planted, a single tree sprouting, thriving, in tough terrain. A true representation of them.

"Well? What are we waiting for?" His sister jumped forward excitedly, she raced to the centre of the clearing looking back at him expectedly.

Soaringstrike just glanced up and childishly smiled. He padded forward, the coarse dirt beneath his paws giving him an ache. He looked around towards the tree line, bushes surrounded the clearing, a perfect place for prey to forage. And for them to eat.

"Alright let's go!" She dashed off towards the undergrowth, a competitive glint in her eyes. He just let out a huff of breath as he smiled a bit, joyful but still exasperatedly.

He trotted off in the other direction, sure to keep away from her side, if all else failed, he could blame it on the fact she got the luckier side. He shook his head with a silly smile. He understood why she always was so competitive, always so ready to prove herself. Their parents never saw her the same as they saw him. She was born weak, small and a runt and their parents never favoured her, if anything they despised her. She never let that bring her down though, she had him and she knew when she became an apprentice, things would only look up from there. But that's when she discovered she was a MagusCat. Soaringstrike was always proud of this and thought this as a fair exchange. She had powers, he had strength. It might as well have been for the better that this occurred, if not for one thing that destroyed this…

His thoughts were interrupted as his ears flicked to the scampers of mice dashing from tree root to tree root. Carefully crouching down and crawling forward, he made his way through the grass without even a rustle. A mouse was crouched low, its head hung towards the tree trunk, chewing on a seed. Soaringstrike slithered as close as he could, extending his paws. In one fell swoop it was over. The carcass of the mouse's body hung from his jaws. _Score_.

Quick as a mole, the mouse was buried in a small ditch and he began scenting the air again, eager to continue the hunt and beat his sister. He too was competitive, prideful and ready to overachieve. He had never understood truly why their parents disliked her weakness. Everyone else knew she was weak, but they never hated her, they never mistreated her or favoured him over Petalpool. Until…

The discovered powers were a good blessing and was always considered a great heralding moment for the clan that they would be strong, that the magic continued to flow through their veins. It was cause for celebration and the cat would be respected throughout the clan. But it was different for her, of course it would be. Her rigorous training through the forest even alone, just to prove her worth to their parents or perhaps the fate and stars by-will. Whatever the case was, she was granted an ability, one rare and not seen in Rimeclan for long. Duality wielding. The celebratory mood was never made. Strength was one thing to be respected, fear was something far worse to be subjected too. Her power coincided with fear. Most cats outcasted her from social groups, many never looked upon her the same. She began to be treated just like her parents did to her. Much more, much worse. She had always lived like that, until she finally snapped… It had taken the clan, all the clans of the Great Territories, a spark, a mass incident, one never to be forgotten by all who had lived through it. A final tear. The clan had pushed her away once, and she had pushed back stronger. The clan could learn the errors of their way, but Petalpool… She was always to be feared again. Secretly despised, secretly blamed by most. She had tried to prove herself loyal once more and despite more favourable reactions, the clan still had not forgotten what she had done…

Soaringstrike sighed, his nose was in the air but he couldn't smell any other prey, perhaps he had picked the unlucky side after all. He shook his head and continued searching, he didn't want to be kept down, defeated by a bit of misfortune. Although a bit of misfortune was an understatement for Petalpool's life. The others had feared her, the fear had emboldened them. They grew to resent her, their fear giving way to nasty reactions. Fear had caused them to snap at her and she grew terrified at this. The cycle repeated once more. _Fear._

"Isn't it weird what fear does to a cat?" A voice whispered in the winds, echoing throughout the undergrowth and the trees. Soaringstrike immediately snapped his head to the source of the voice, his ears flicking around for anymore sound. Unfortunately, the sound had echoed from every direction, he didn't know where it came from. He looked throughout the forest, seeing nothing but green leaves and brown bark.

"Who's there?" He growled into the woods. He unsheathed his claws, his eyes glazed over the forest floor and through the bushes until his eyes locked onto a pair of silver-black eyes in the foliage, dim and hidden within the shadow of the undergrowth. A single blank giggle was let out as the eyes faded away, receding from view. He didn't know he was holding his breath until the eyes disappeared. Calming his shaking legs, he heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn't one to be scared often, especially in a place he knew so well. But for some reason, the mere look in her eyes, malicious, unwavering, emotionless. It was terror-inducing. His legs were about to give in, so he shook his body, calming his nerves.

He had to find Petalpool, whatever it was, it did not feel safe. The birds had stopped singing, they were dead silence, the wind went dead still, the leaves did not rustle. Soaringstrike dashed ahead, getting back on his legs and pummelling through the undergrowth. The thorns tugged at his pelt as he shoved himself rapidly through the thick bushes. The darkness seemed consuming around him, the shadows dancing across the trees. He shivered as he broke out back into the clearing. He almost smashed into his sister as he burst out of the tree line.

His sister's eyes widen as she saw him flying towards him. With a quick swish of her paws, a wall of water appeared slowing his crash into her.

"Ow," She muttered shaking her head, she blinked a few times and glared at him, "What are you doing?"

Soaringstrike grumbled at the pain, then remembered about the shadowed cat. His sister was looking at him with a cocked head and concerned eyes. Clearly confused at why he ran into her with such speed. He shook his head, he didn't want to concern her sister any further, "It's nothing, the sun is setting, and I suppose I was just excited to get back."

His sister flashed a smile, a glinting smile, one with a question buried within. Immediately he knew where this was going, "So, how much prey did you catch?"

Her eyes scanned across his face and Soaringstrike knew that she knew. He just sighed, admitting defeat as his sister whipped her head in victory, "Come now, you'll have to help me gather my prey."

* * *

The sun was sinking below the horizon, scarlet waves tore across the sky and orange rays shimmered across the darkening, violet sky. The first stars glimmered from above as they padded through the forest back to the river they began from. His mouth was full, carrying a plump thrush and his own mouse he had caught from earlier. Soaringstrike was pretty shocked that his sister barely caught more than him, only catching three pieces of prey. She too was confused as to why the prey had suddenly became scarce within moments.

He shook his head, he didn't even know whether that figure in the shadow was real or a figment of his imagination and at this point he could care less. His paws were sore and his muscles were aching. His pelt was covered in thorns and brambles. He remembered his sister teasing him, wondering with incredulous, large eyes what he had done. He just flicked it off. It was nothing to concern him or her about. However, the thoughts of the shadowed cat bugged him. It had given him a sense of terror he hadn't felt in a long time. Was it an omen? Soaringstrike just blinked furiously, trying his best to get the thoughts out of his head. When they got back to camp he could tell Snowstorm about it, it wasn't too much to worry over.

The sounds of crashing waves and rippling tides snapped him out of his thoughts and alerted him of the presence of the river. They were close to the river, they were close to camp. His sister beside him put her vole and squirrel down by the riverbank, the splashes of water against the rocky sides of the river spraying droplets of water on her cheek, reflecting the rising moon's glare. They had walked in silence all the way to the river, their mouth completely stuffed with prey forced them to.

"I think we should break here, we'll need the energy to cross the river anyways," She suggested, sitting down on the hard surface of the riverbank.

He nodded in agreement, placing his prey down as well. He wouldn't complain about a break, his legs were killing him and the burrs that tug at his fur were certainly not helping. His sister laughed as he began to tug at his clumps of fur, trying to get them off. With a silent smile, she closed her eyes. The sounds of splashing water stalled as the waves began floating towards him. The water diverged into streams of wet liquid, pouring through his pelt. The water was cooling and refreshing as it pushed away the burrs washing away the pain before quickly flowing back towards the river and as quick as that, re-joined the river, the water flowing normally again, rippling and splashing against the rocks that lined the banks.

"Thanks," He purred in gratitude. Her eyes were warm and kind. Something that tore at his heart a little. The last time he had saw her eyes like that were so far gone. He had remembered the times that they were cold only flaring up in the passion of pain and revenge. He closed his eyes as he listened to the whistling wind overhead and the light rustle of leaves on the trees. He wanted the times long ago to be back, a time where suspicion and mistrust were gone so that he and his sister could live in relative harmony with the others.

The light rustling of reeds snapped his attention back on reality. His sister was already up and had stepped away from the reeds next to her. The wind blew towards the reeds and whatever or whoever was there was not detectable by scent. He backed up and arched his back towards the reeds, his claws unsheathing ready to pounce. He was ready to jump on to the tall reeds when out of the corner of his eyes he saw his sister's eyes widening and her stance relaxing. She placed a paw on his back and nodded at him, "Relax, look."

His eyes glided back to the reeds as the wind phased through them, parting some of its long stems, enough to see a shivering bundle of fur clumped inside them. Soaringstrike was obviously confused, he didn't know what was going on. His sister swiped her paws at the reeds, parting them fully, ripping them out and sending tufts of reed stems, soil and stones into the crashing waves that engulfed them viciously. Hiding in the reeds were two separate clumps of fur, black and cream beige painted these balls of fluff as they shivered in the wind.

His sister gasped in shock as she quickly rushed up towards them, "Kits?! What are they doing here?"

He was similarly surprised at this and padded up slowly towards them, sniffing at them, "They aren't Rimeclan kits certainly."

Their scents were of that of dead leaves and oak trees, not of icy frost and ivy, their pelts were unkempt, it was certain that they had been running through the forest for long and hard, "Certainly not any of the other clans, perhaps loners or rogue kits?"

His sister looked up at him with large eyes, concern for the kits filled her eyes, "Whoever they are we can't just leave them here!"

He tilted his head in thought, she wasn't speaking far from the truth, the warrior code told of kits as a high priority, they had to be kept safe and should be kept within all warrior's power to see this through. Even if they weren't part of Rimeclan or any of the other clans, it wasn't right for them to leave them here, out in the open cold, condemning them to death. He sighed, before turning back to his sister who was already warming them up with her fluffy tail and preparing to carry them off.

"Alright, let's take them, we'll see what Flakestar has to say about them." As he said that, he saw her eyes' glinting with relief. She was a kind cat, she wanted them safe, she had always been one to please and she always cared for others. It wasn't beyond her to see her caring for other kits, even stranger ones, like her own.

"Let me bury the prey first, we can get them later or get others to take it, luckily for the kits it won't be a far way off camp." His tails swished as he padded over and began burying the prey. His sister picked up one of the kits, a she-cat with a cream coloured coat, small and plushie with a thin complexion. The other kit, a dark tom cat with a white stripe down his belly barely could stand. His fur was thin and not made for this environment. If it were leafbare, he would already be dead. Their skin was gaunt and pale, and their bones were protruding out. Their eyes were glazed over in exhaustion and they didn't even seem to notice that they were there. He knew that they were starved, tired and in pain, they wouldn't last much longer. They had to hurry and get them to Dappledrop and they desperately needed warmth and food.

He finished off burying the prey and quickly grasped the dark tom kit by his scruff, hurrying off to where his sister was waiting for him, looking at him from the riverbank. He grimaced as he realised, they had to carry the kits above the water, they couldn't risk them getting wet. His sister looked confused at his pale anxiety. He looked back equally confused. Did she not understand the task at hand? His sister's eyes widened as she seemed to realise what he was thinking, rolling her eyes at him. He was taken aback by this before suddenly coming to realisation that his sister could just part the water. He grumbled and muttered through the large clump of fur in his mouth. His sister placed a paw in the water as the waves began collapsing against an invisible wall, being held back by the powers of her. A dry river bed was revealed as a bead of sweat seemed to fall from her face. Her cheeks were strained as her eyes glared at him to hurry. He swiftly made it across the river as his sister followed suit just making it as time as the waves collapsed back into the river, resuming the flow of water.

Her sister breathed deeply, clearly exhausted by that ordeal. He placed his tail on her back in comfort. Pride shone on his face, she was always ready to go above and beyond to accomplish what she had to do. With that quick break, they continued through the forests across from where they had left off. It was darkening by every step and they had to get there by sundown. The kits mewled as they were carried through the lightly dense woodlands. Few bushes or undergrowth covered this part of the forest and it was a mouse's walk back to camp. The trees gave way to gently rolling hills down into a valley below. A wall of brambles and thorns were set up by the stone walls, situated by a small lake.

They stood at the top of the hills overlooking down into the valley, it wouldn't be long before they made it back to camp. The sun was just barely below the horizon with sparks of yellow and red flittering across the sky still, the violet night yet to engulf the few remaining rays of sunlight. They swiftly made their way down the rolling green hills, zipping past the few bushes along the way that lined the pathway down.

The kits had fallen silent, tough snores and squiggling had alerted him of their rough sleeping. Their tiny faces seemed to grimace in pain. Fortunately, they were closing in on the entrance of their camps, the woodlands starting up as they sprinted into the valley. Some meows were sounding from within the camp walls, they were here. Curving through some more bushes and brambles, more trees and across the ground littered with fallen leaves, signalling the blossoming of new life within the flowers up overhead, they knew they were back. It was only a few more fox-strides to the entrance. Worry restarted in his head, how would he explain this all to Flakestar. He looked across his shoulder to his sister galloping just behind him. His worries subsided as he saw her face filled with determination. It would be fine. This would all be fine.

* * *

A/N: Well the first official chapter is out. It's not the best, to be honest, but I strived to make it better than any other stories I've attempted before. I'm hoping this will be the first story I can finish to the end. That being said. If you wish to submit OCs I'm open to suggestions and submissions. It would actually help because I'm not the best at original names nor warrior names. Keep in mind they don't have to follow exact warrior naming etiquette as it's an AU for a world where cats have magic. Ah well. I've rambled long enough. See you in the next chapter guys.


	4. Chapter 2: Anxiety Claws

Chapter 2: Anxiety Claws

Soaringstrike's paws ached. The ground had been rough and the greenleaf rain had not come yet. No soothing wet soil beneath his paws, no smell of wet mint leaves tingling his nose. He couldn't wait to get back to his nest in the warrior's den and sleep through until sunrise. Unfortunately for him, they had to report their findings to Flakestar and moreover, they had to figure out what to do with these two kits. The tom he had grabbed by the scruff seemed to slowly come to the realisation that he was being carried, but he was too tired to even struggle or resist if he wanted to. The entrance to the camp was right in front of them. An opening in the bramble walls lined with thorns and some bushes for camouflage. It still bore the scars of battle, scorch marks from the last battles.

They padded through the opening, ducking their heads to pass through the bushes without being stabbed by the thorns. It was difficult to get through with the kits in tow but Soaringstrike pushed on, his eyes shut to avoid getting poked by leaves and specks of flying dirt. Within a few moments and a couple struggling pushes, they were through. The camp lay in front of them, a clearing with few bushes and saplings scattered around, basically a shore to the small lake it overlooked. Bramble and bush-padded dens surrounded the centre of the clearing where a small, but sizable, fresh-kill pile stood. Most of the cats were getting ready for their final meal or preparing for night watch. He saw Maneroar, glazed eyes and all, sitting by the centre where stones and rocks were piled into a circular form as Gustpaw helped collected leaves and woods to place in it. Good tinder material for tonight's fire. Maneroar may have lost most of his vision but his unique, if not uncommon for this clan, flame ability was welcomed by all. The nights were cold here and the flame burnt passionately with warmth but was always kept under control.

By the side was a mossy stoned and brambled den. The nursery, nests for the kits and the queens. Well, queen. Licheneyes was probably asleep by now, plus there was no point to think about her, these kits they carried were old enough to be excelled into apprentice training. Soaringstrike shook his head as he and his sister behind him padded through towards the main objective, the only den that mattered at this point. A den built by stones piled up a fox-length up, situated on the shore of the lake, the soft sand sunk deep by the stones moved by cats from far long ago. It opened up towards the small lake yet stared back towards the entrance. The leader's den. Soaringstrike closed his eyes. They had to pass through basically every cat to get to the Flakestar's den. It would be an ordeal to have stares run creeping down his spine. He looked over at his sister, she seemed unphased by this, perhaps she was already used to stares, ugly ones, brimmed with hate and disgust. Those eyes, those glares, it would only phase right through her pelt.

They made their way through the centre of the camp as the other's gave them looks of surprise and shock. Some looked at him confused, probably wondering why they were carrying unfamiliar kits. They were way less receptive to his sister. Some low mutters, growls and hard, cold and furious glares. He looked to his left, towards the nursery. Licheneyes had awoken to the sounds, the commotion the others had made from their arrival. She seemed horrified by the limp kit in his sister's mouth and quickly covered her two, tiny kits, shielding them away from her sight. Her eyes burned with motherly fury and she spat at her. At this, his sister's eyes dropped, and her ears stuck to her face. She was in pain but she wouldn't show it, not here, not now. His own anger was building, heat burned down his spine. He wanted to yowl out in defence of his sister. But he knew, nobody would care. She only had to do it once and for the rest of the life, she'll live in pain and regret. The dirty looks that were given to her began to clear up when a single, loud growl sounded right up close to where they were. Soaringstrike's eyes snapped back to in front of him. He didn't even realise his eyes were glued to the cats that struck out at his sister. He looked forward seeing a silver-blue she-cat stand right in front of him. A stern stare was directed at him, scanning down to the dark tom kit that he was pulling by the scruff and then back towards the cream-coloured she kit she was grasping.

She blinked, within a second her eyes formed into a squint, one not of anger or disgust like the others but demanding with a slight touch of concern, "Whose are these?"

He exchanged glances with his sister before placing the tom in his mouth down and looking back up towards her, "We found these two hiding within the reeds by the long river. They were shivering from the cold of sundown and we thought it was against the warrior code to leave them there where they could easily have frozen to death."

The she-cat stared away in thought before continuing, "This is beyond me, I suppose you have to speak with Flakestar."

She directed them towards his den before looking back at the crowd, her eyes flushed into a fit of dark anger, "I suppose you all have nothing better to do than waste your time staring at them?!"

They began dissipating away to continue on their duties. They didn't seem to want to go against her orders though they seemed rather unhappy with them, muttering between themselves. He looked back over to his sister, her eyes flicked a bit but her ears still remained down, upset. The silver-blue she-cat looked back at us and bent in whispering, "Don't worry about it, I'll have a _talk_ with them later."

He blinked warmly at her, a soft smile on his face as he bent down to pick up the tom kit, "Thanks Snowstorm."

Snowstorm nodded back, her eyes glanced onto Petalpool. She shook her head, her eyes brimming with hidden tears. They were always good friends and Soaringstrike knew it pained her to see her mistreated in such a way. But they all knew, the clan would keep distrusting her. They padded up towards the leader den, passing by Maneroar and Gustpaw. He placed down the kit as he turned to face Gustpaw, "Hey, can you and the others go collect some prey that we buried by the long river after you're done helping Maneroar?"

Before the apprentice could respond, Maneroar coughed and grumbled at them, "I'm pretty sure I can handle myself. My eyes might not work well but I can hold my own, I'm not a rusty old elder ya' know!"

Petalpool rolled her eyes in silence behind him and Gustpaw widened his eyes before nodding at him and padding off to collect his siblings. Soaringstrike just huffed, he couldn't be bothered to argue with the stubborn orange tom. He picked up the dark tom kit again, his breath slowed indicating that he was asleep. They were closing in onto the Flakestar's den when a croak was made from beside him. Immediately, he knew who it was and he growled. He whipped around to face him, Icecrow. The black tom looked quite disgustingly at the kits and at his sister while looking quite disapprovingly of him.

"Strange kits shouldn't be allowed in here, they wouldn't survive the ordeal of the clans." He growled condescendingly, spitting at his feet.

Fury was building up within him as he unsheathed his claws sinking them deep within the ground. Soaringstrike knew he had to calm down and he responded as coolly as possible, "That's not for you to decide, that's for Flakestar."

Icecrow just rolled his blue, indignant eyes, glaring behind him at his sister. He stepped in front of his view, blocking him from viewing his sister, "Besides I highly doubt they would have survived **at all** if we hadn't brought them in? Are you suggesting we go against the warrior code?"

The dark tom hissed as he padded away, clearly despising the fact he couldn't respond to that. Soaringstrike shook his head, there was no point thinking about him, he was hated pretty much universally within the clan.

They stepped up onto the rocks lining up the leader's den, climbing the few stepping stones that were available for them, until they reached the top. Moss and reeds lined up the entrance to the den as they passed through them looking into the dark den. A singular figure sat there on a nest of brambles and moss staring out of the crevice in the back wall towards the lake, deep in thought. The rustling of the entrance alerted the old, white tom. His head swivelled around at them, before looking down at the two kits they carried in their jaws. His eyes widened a bit before closing. He seemed to be deep in contemplation before opening them again staring at the two with eyes devoid of any expression.

"Come on in then." He meowed tiredly. He turned his body around to look at them his tail sweeping around to his paws.

Soaringstrike stared back at his sister, she just wore a blank expression, not sure what to make of this either. The two of them made their way inside, it was quite a tight squeeze as the den had rather little room to fit all three of them comfortably. Flakestar blinked before cocking his head in question at the two kits, "What are these two kits doing here? Where did you find them?"

His voice was raspy, clearly degrading by old age. Soaringstrike didn't know how much longer he would live for, but he knew his days were numbering. He put the tom he was carrying down to respond to his leader's question, "We found these two by the banks of the long river, they were hiding behind reeds and were shivering from the cold. I hope you understand we brought them here for shelter and food. They looked rather weak and I doubt they could live any longer by themselves."

His sister nodded from beside him, placing down the kit too, "They aren't from any other clans and they don't smell of any rogue or loner that we've smelled before either. Probably kits from out of the clan territories, definitely not something that would wander onto the territories knowingly."

She swept her tail at the cream-coloured she kit, the sounds of talk seemed to be awakening her. Flakestar looked down, his blue eyes had pools of darkness swimming around in confusion as if he couldn't decide what to do with them. If let out a heave, a sigh, "I suppose there is no choice, we have to shelter them for now. I will think of what to do later but for now, send them to Dappledrop and make sure they get some freshkill in them."

The old tom let out a raspy cough before ending, his eyes glazed deep in thought as he dismissed them with a swish of his tail. Soaringstrike looked over at his sister and she shook her head in response. They picked up the kits and padded out of the den, making their way to the medicine cat den. They padded down the rock pile once more, slipping on a few rocks here and there before landing with their feet onto the ground below with the kits still in tow. A few cats stared towards them, curious about their leader's response. It wasn't as if they knew either, he had just told them to get them fixed up. His eyes betrayed nothing, his thoughts were unclear to him. He had no idea if Flakestar would keep them or leave them. He was concerned about the latter option. Surely Flakestar would see reason? They didn't find any clue about the kits' family and they certainly couldn't live by themselves. Soaringstrike didn't know he was even shaking until his sister placed her tail on his back, her calming eyes soothing his own. He had to listen to his leader's words even if they weren't his shared opinion. The warrior code said so, his pride would enforce it too. He sighed, it was a long day already, he wanted nothing more than to forget about this whole ordeal. Even more, his sister definitely hadn't forgotten about their deal, she would still want it done after all this was over. Somehow though, the thought of his sister's playful attitude calmed him further as they made their way through the clearing towards the medicine cat den.

The den was a small bramble covered wall with moss lining its inside. It was situated right by the walls of the camp close to the entrance. He thought it was quite clever. It would be quick to get injured cats in quickly and certainly would make it easier to go in and out from for herb collection and whatnot. Snowstorm's _**words** _seem to have certainly worked as most cats didn't even look up at them as they passed through the camp to the other side. A few did look at us but not with the same hatred or flare of anger in their eyes, rather they had glints of kindness and sympathy, even some directed at Petalpool. As they approached the medicine cat den, they saw a figure laying out in one of the nests, half-asleep. A brightly coloured she-cat with blue and silver streaks was resting. Soaringstrike recognised her immediately, one of the few cats that were on friendly terms with his sister. She too was constantly being shoved around, disliked by a few clan cats as well. She was an outsider they proclaimed, despite the fact that the she-cat had no memories of her outside life, being brought in by her mother many seasons ago.

_Aetherdream._

Some openings and wounds, patched up by cobwebs and a salve, lined up along her body indicated she had been in a pretty bad fight with an animal or perhaps another cat. His pelt burnt up in rage as his thoughts wandered off, silently in red, hot anger which cat could have done this to her. Before he could single out any cat, a black and white she-cat stepped out of the den. It was Dappledrop, the medicine cat. She looked at his eyes and she quickly clarified in a nervous tone, "She was attacked by a fox, she got out of their luckily although her wounds won't heal for a quarter-moon."

She looked down at his jaws, pulling the small tom kit by his scruff as she gasped, "These poor kits! Come on in! Not a moment to spare!"

She practically pulled him into the den as Petalpool followed close behind them. The walls were lined with moss filled with depressions sunk into it by stacks of herbs. The newleaf certainly brought an abundance of new life to the forest and it certainly showed. Soaringstrike was pulled to a nest as he put the kit down into it and waited as Dappledrop went to fetch supplies muttering to herself about which herbs she needed for what. He didn't understand a single mew of what she was saying and looked across to his sister. She placed the kit she was carrying down, wrapping her tail protectively around the she kit and frowned. If no cat knew better, it would have been thought that she was the mother of the kit. He looked down at the tom beside him, breathing in and out with small breaks in them. It was irregular breathing and he began coughing out, his pelt flaring in heat. Soaringstrike was concerned, it wasn't leafbare but kits could still be subject to intense illness especially in the temperature of their environment.

"This kit seems to be flaring up, I think he has a fever." He called out to Dappledrop, worry brimming his voice making it crack.

She turned around with some sort of leaf in her jaws as she looked down at the tom kit. She shook her head, her eyes widening in anxiety as sweat beaded down her snout. She looked back at her herbs as she hurriedly collected any remaining herbs she needed from the nests and made her way back to the them.

Her mouth was stuffed with herbs and her paws stuck with bands of cobwebs. She immediately went to placing a poultice on the tom's scratches, muffling something, her mouth filled with herbs. She placed them down gently before continuing what she had attempted to say, "This is a marigold and willow bark poultice, it should keep infections and pain away. Can you hold the kit still while I place the cob webs on?"

Soaringstrike nodded placing a tail on the kit and a paw on his back to stop the squirming clump of fur. The cobwebs were applied no problem but Dappledrop's eyes flashed with worry, something was certainly bothering her.

He cocked his head towards her, recognising the stress in her eyes, "What is it?"

His sister looked over, concern brimming her eyes as she flashed a questioning look towards them. Dappledrop looked back at him, shaking her head she voiced her anxieties, "The kit is exhausted, struggling and is hurt, I'm not even sure if he can take the feverfew necessary to reduce his fever."

He looked back down at the tom, he seemed to be burning up further and further as they spoke, the pain and exhaustion had taken a toll on the little kit's body and it was clear to them all that he would die from whatever illness had beholden him. Soaringstrike just nodded gently towards her, they had to try to save him at whatever cost, even if it meant using her powers on a small and innocent kit like this.

He gently placed his paw under the head of the small tom, lifting the head up high enough for the herb to be force-fed. Dappledrop looked over at Petalpool and they both shared a look, cold, hard resolve. Suddenly, the temperature in the cave dropped to a frigid cold, darkness seemed to seep from the walls. A ring of water appeared out of thin air rippling through the air towards the kit. Shrouds of dark mist and pools of waters fell through towards the kit, its head buried in Soaringstrike's paw. The shrouds of mist plunged into the kit's neck causing a crackle from his throat before silence. The mouth of the kit's fell wide open as a rush of water began filling his mouth. In a quick stroke, Dappledrop pushed the herb into the tom kit's mouth as his mouth snapped shut. The air was tense as the temperature returned to normal. For a few mouse-patters, there was nothing but silence, before the kit made a gurgling noise and the bulge in his mouth disappeared. The herb had been swallowed. They all let out a sigh of relief, they had held their breath for so long nervously waiting for the results and now they were truly relieved. The kit had taken in the herb, there was no immediate danger of the fever.

Now Dappledrop looked over his shoulder, towards the she kit beside his sister. The cream-coloured kit was asleep, certainly in a better state than the other kit. She quickly had the same poultice applied with cobwebs over and set into a comfortable position for rest. Dappledrop closed her eyes and Soaringstrike saw the exhaustion written across her face. It wasn't just the tired rush of patients, he knew, it was because the channelling of her power devastated her energy, tiring her out for sure and she would drop dead on her paws any second now. She looked back at him with eyes screaming of exhaustion but glinting with happiness and victory, "They'll be fine for now. So now if you'll excuse me…"

She collapsed onto a nest, worn out from the rush. He and Petalpool shared a look of gratitude towards the sleeping she-cat before dragging her off to a secluded nest deep within her den for a well-deserved rest. They padded out of the den into the moonhigh brightness, it had been a long day for both of them, they certainly didn't have the energy to continue staying up. They padded off towards the freshkill pile, its contents reduced down to a finch and a mouse. The two of them shared a look of content, at least they would both be full tonight for a much-required rest.

They padded off to a secluded spot under the dead trunk of a tree to enjoy their meal, he having picked the finch and her having taken the mouse. They looked back towards the camp, it was all but silent, a silent flame crackling from the fire in the centre, a loud snoring Maneroar sleeping right up at it. The stars reflected across the pristine surface of the lake by the camp and shone through the trees, starlight trickling down onto the rough ground below. Soaringstrike sighed, the adrenaline of today drained from his body leaving him racked in aches and exhaustion. He leaned down to take a chunk out of the finch. As he chewed, he contemplated, what would happen with the kits? He knew he had no say in it, Flakestar would determine their fate, but he wondered. Would Flakestar really let them go? He knew very well they wouldn't survive out in the cold and rough weather of Rimeclan territory. If they made it to any of the other clan's… Well it was doubtful they would take them in. They were never going to be as hospitable as them. He shook his head, he couldn't think with all these tired clouds in his head. Plus, this was going to be a decision for tomorrow, he didn't want to think about then. He looked back down at his finch and finished it off, polishing every last flesh it had off its bone. He looked back at Petalpool, realising she had fallen asleep having finished her mouse. She was more tired than she had let on it seemed. And anyways, he couldn't blame her for not wanting to sleep with the others. He buried the remains and made his way to the warrior's den. A nice, comfortable bramble and bushy den with moss and lichen lined across the floors. He carefully manoeuvred his way through a few of his sleeping clanmates before settling down at his nest. He stared back at the empty nest at his side and he sighed one last time. His eyes threatened to close at any moment and the warmth and comfort of the cosy nest was dragging him into the darkness of sleep. He stared out with blurred vision one last time at the nest entrance, towards where her sister was sleeping, merely a single furry dot in the distance, before collapsing into the dark comfort of dreams, awaiting tomorrow's call.

* * *

A/N: Ooh boy was I on a roll for this one. Written in basically three hours. A writer's streak! It was pretty good. Anyways I think I'll be adding other perspectives to this story not just from Soaringstrike's point of view. After all, we all probably wondering what's going on with Silver, or maybe some other cat will be thrown into the mix. Oh well. But poor Petalpool, it's quite sad to see her so marginalised, although you'll soon find out what **really **happened and maybe you can judge for yourself if she deserves sympathy or hatred. Anyways, toodles, until next time. Submit OCs if you want. Bye!


	5. Chapter 3: Truth and Dreams

Chapter 3: Truth and Dreams

Soaringstrike awoke suddenly with a jerking of his head. He wasn't in his comfortable, moss nest in the dim warrior den. He stood in thick mist, rolling plains of fog in every direction he turned to. He tried to speak but it came out only as a gasp of air. Where was he? The mist surrounded him, in every direction there seemed to be only an empty nothing, devoid of anything but white clouds of fog and mist. The floors of cloudy fog seeped into his paws, cooling his ached paws.

He padded forward, phasing through the mist, looking for anything, anyone. His eyes flashed to the side, a few trees lined the edges of view. With sprinting pawsteps, he made his way towards them. Surprisingly, he felt no aches or pains here nor did he tire. Was this just a dreamscape? He shook his head, even if it was, he had to find a way out anyways. He looked outwards among the densely packed trees. Their white leaves flowed with the mist twisting and turning clouds among thin branches like cotton in the wind. The shrubbery below was a bare cloudy bush among the misty grounds of the small woods. He looked elsewhere. In every other direction, there was just more mists and rolling cloudy plains. It seemed this forest had called him, standing out from the otherwise white void. He padded in, shoving his way through the cloudy undergrowth.

The mist curled around him, swallowing any other space around him. It created a shell of fog in the shape of his body as he pushed through. The shell shattered into a million sparkles of white glinting snow as he broke out of the undergrowth and into a clearing of bright shimmering light. A sparkling figure with a transparent pelt of shimmering ripples through their coat stood at the opposite end of the clearing, entering through the bushes away from him. His voice suddenly came rushing back to him as he called out, "Wait!"

The sparkling cat didn't even acknowledge that he was there having entered the bush without turning their head. He grimaced and followed suit, sprinting towards the bushes. With a brilliant pounce, he crashed right into the bushes the mysterious cat had entered falling into the mosty leaves once more.

He was falling.

He didn't know how, the bushes had just parted way into a void of darkness unlike the contrasting white landscape he had just been in. He fell further and further through the darkness. A laugh came, one of ill intent. It crept up his spine, the familiar feel sending shockwaves through his body. It was the same feeling as when he was at the hunting clearing. However it wasn't fear that drenched his body dry to the soul, it was something burning, red hot. Like anger, like desire. It was a destructive feel, something he couldn't refrain from unleashing. All around him a burst of flame and a white-hot nova of emotions erupted, painting the darkness red and white.

"Soon."

A maniacal cackle shook all around him, shattering the dark curtains of the void. It all came cascading down, the darkness tearing around him until it fell away, revealing the white landscape again. He was back in the dream clearing. The mysterious figure standing silent above him as he shivered in a bundle of fur on the ground. The sparkling, ghost-like cat gently took him by his scruff and pulled him up, a ripple of comfort phased through him. It was indescribable bliss. It was as if he had been alone this whole time, scared and without anyone's guidance until some cat had taken him under their wing, showing him the light of hope. It shone brilliantly, a sparkle that soothed him. He slowly closed his eyes in a blink the white landscape around him fading to the dark comfort of the bliss.

He opened his eyes, he wasn't in the fluffy landscape anymore. He was back in the warrior's den. His dreams didn't seem to have awaken any of the other cats as they slept soundly awaiting dawn. It was still dark, the sun not having risen yet and yet he stood up, his body charged with energy from the dreams. He thought about them, the dreams starting to fade from his memories. What could they mean? Were there any meaning behind them? Was it just a dream or perhaps a prophecy, an omen? He shook his head, he was being ridiculous, there was no way some lowly warrior like him, not even bearing the powers of a Maguscat, could ever have a dream about a prophecy or an omen. In fact, it was unlikely he even could have a dream at all. He had been sleeping soundly and dreamless for as long as he could remember, why would it suddenly change now?

He blinked, determined to forget any wisps of the fresh dreams from his thoughts and memories. There was much to do today. He had to check up on his sister and the kits. Not to mention, today would be the day Flakestar decided what to do with the kits…

He gently and carefully stepped oversleeping cat's bodies as their gentle snores continued with no disturbance. He squeezed through the mossy lined entrance and padded out into the camp. Looking towards the centre, he saw the fire from last night completely dissipated, leaving only a few sparks of embers and ashes flying through the low wind of the rather still pre-dawn dark. It was a lull. Nothing moved apart from a few insects buzzing through the trees and the odd squirrel looking down rather curiously at him.

Soaringstrike padded through the musky air checking his side towards the trunk where his sister had been sleeping. She wasn't there. Worriedly, he looked around, perhaps she had gone for a drink by the lake or was making dirt? He knew he shouldn't have to be so protective of her, she was a grown she-cat, she could protect herself, especially with her powers. It didn't matter. He knew that she was still the same terrified kit she had been when she was young, being berated viciously by their parents. He breathed in, steadying his nerves, she wouldn't have gone far at night anyways. The nights in Rimeclan territories were rough and cold, no way she would subject herself to that torture. She had to be close. He padded down towards the lake shore, passing by a loudly snoring Maneroar, growling in his sleep, by the fire-pit.

She wasn't there. The shore was empty, frost clinging to the rocks that lined it. The water gently crashed in, washing away the developing ice and leaving a frigid cold on the stones and pebbles. It didn't matter, the encroaching greenleaf sun would melt right through it. He leaned down for a lap of water, the freezing water churned in the back of his throat, cooling his parched tongue. He was used to the cold water, it didn't seem to bother him anymore. He turned tail from the lakeshore and padded up towards the camp entrance, if she did leave the camp anyways the guards would have known. As he approached the entrance, he heard the distinguishable snore of Oakroot. Soaringstrike growled in a panic. If he had been sleeping, then Petalpool could of easily slipped out without notice. He stormed up towards the entrance and turned to see a dozing off Oakroot and a rather lax, stretching Frostjaw. His eyes widened, surely not, they couldn't have just let her sneak out, could they?

"Did you see Petalpool leave? I couldn't find her anywhere in camp." He let out a low mutter, his eyes squinting in petty rage at the brown and black toms.

The comment made Frostjaw jump in shock and Oakroot's eyes to flutter open. They didn't seem to have noticed him padding up towards them, exhaustion seemed to have drained away at their senses. The pair exchanged looks of confusion and questioning before turning back towards him with a quizzical and baffled look.

"No, we didn't see any cat go out." Frostjaw murmured, uncertainty ringing in his voice.

"Plus who would go out at night anyways?" Oakroot added in a half-sleepy tone, they seemed satisfied at their answer.

Heat brewed under his pelt, anger boiling in his blood, "That's because you two weren't paying attention!"

That seemed to snap Oakroot out of his dreamy state as he looked up at him with attention, "Wow, ok chill. But even if she did leave, she'll be back soon anyways so relax."

Frostjaw murmured in agreement beside him, nodding his head carefully at him. His pelt burnt red-hot, he was certain he was going to explode at them any moment. Fortunately, before he could berate them in an outburst of rage, a rustle of leaves at the bushes that covered the entrance alerted them of a cat's return.

The orange she-cat padded out, a shrew in her jaw. She looked in confusion at the three of them in a tense state, shaking her head with a quizzical glint in her eyes, she muffled a word through the prey in her mouth, "Toms."

The atmosphere relaxed a bit as all three toms looked at each other with embarrassed looks. In silence, Soaringstrike walked away following right behind his sister as she padded towards the empty spot where the prey pile was.

"Where did you go?" He demanded, visible stress plastered across his face.

His sister paused, looked back at him and with eyes that read 'are you serious', pointed at the shrew in her mouse with her tail. His face burnt up in more shame, he wasn't proud of being this overprotective and his sister was showing that she didn't seem to like it either. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, "I meant, why would you hunt before dawn, it's too cold."

She was silent for a while, placing down the shrew in the centre of the camp before whirling around on him, her eyes touched with a brooding sense of despair, "I couldn't sleep."

That was it. Nothing else, nothing more. She didn't care about the cold and her eyes spoke to Soaringstrike, she didn't want to speak anymore about this. He let her go, he knew he couldn't force her to tell him anything anyways. She padded past him towards the medicine cat den, probably wanting to await the news of the kit's recovery. Hopefully they and Dappledrop had awaken, he was concerned and curious about their wellbeing as well and padded close behind her.

The light began spraying through the sky, dawn was coming. The rays of bright yellow lights signalled the beginning of the day, the first of the patrols were to go out, the ones selected the day prior. He knew that he and Petalpool weren't selected for dawn patrol, so it was fine for them to visit the kits. Nothing but silence continued as the pair padded towards the den. It was quite awkward for him to be padding in such stoic silence, they were always happy together, fond of each other's company. Yet something had changed the mood, his sister was darker, broodier today. Something was on her mind, and he wanted to know why, but he knew, there was no way she would ever tell him.

They passed by Aetherdream, her sparkling blue eyes fluttering awake to greet them. She said nothing, but with her usually white-furred face flushed with red, embarrassed by her scars no doubt, she gave a silent nod towards them. She was always a shy cat, never one to stand up for herself, always running from things that seemed bad. She wasn't weak by far, she just didn't have the mental strength to use any of her physical strength. He returned the nod with a small smile, and followed her sister in to the den, her having not noticed Aetherdream's greetings. He didn't blame her, it was easy to miss the small gestures she made to others. The white she-cat gave a flick of her tail and laid her head back down on the nest, curling back up.

He joined his sister in the den, the scent of herbs immediately flooding his senses. The light was dim, only a few rays of the rising sun even trickled in here and he squinted his eyes, adjusting to the low light. Dappledrop was lying in her nest, her face in a grimace as she grumbled at them. The black and white she-cat moaned as she got up and blinked tiredly at them, she gave off the best sunrise smile she could muster and pulled herself out of her nest in a stretch.

"Guess you're here to check the kits?" She meowed in a knowing tone. Her eyes flashing back at the two kits by the walls of the dens.

"Yeah, judging from the look on your face, I think you're equally wondering about the kits." He smiled back at her in a playful tone. The tortoiseshell she-cat just rolled her eyes at him and padded towards the two kits.

They were both resting, their small chests lifting up and down as they breathed in sync. The tom seemed strong and healthy again, his temperature wasn't flaring hot and both of their wounds were healing fine. Dappledrop seemed quite smug about this, she wore a smile of relief and her eyes glinted, impressed by their quick recovery.

"Well I'm certain that they would be out of here today," She placed a paw on the tom's snout, nodding to herself, "Perhaps then we can ask them about what happened. In the meantime…"

Her belly growled, a large gurgle sounded throughout the den, reverberating against the walls. She gave a shy smile as she began ducking out of the den, "I'm famished. I'll see you two soon."

She trotted out of the den as the sunlight shined down on the clearing. Soaringstrike knew that every cat would be awake by now, certainly Flakestar would be coming to ask about the kits' condition.

"Well it is a good thing you did catch the shrew now, isn't it?" He let out a thoughtful smirk, looking back at his emotionless sister beside him, wrapping her tail around the she kit, tempting her awake.

"I guess…"

His smirk dropped, his sister wasn't even joking around anymore, what had happened to her during his sleep? His thoughts were broken by the paw steps just outside the den. They were slow awnd calculative steps, soft and cautionary.

The elderly tom broke his head into the den, followed by the loud and tenacious steps of his deputy, Snowstorm.

"I don't suppose you two know if the two kits are awake?"

He shot them a questioning look and Soaringstrike stood up, eyeing the both of them before responding curtly, "Actually yes, they seem to be fine and waking."

"Good," Flakestar rasped, his eyes gliding down to the two waking kits with his sister sat down beside them, "I will certainly need them to recount what happened before making a final judgement."

"Of course." He responded with respect. He stood there awaiting the entrance of both of them, when Flakestar cocked his head quizzically.

"Well what are you two waiting for? Go."

Soaringstrike was taken aback by this and Petalpool stood up in protest beside him, the old, white tom just shook his head and continued, "I want to speak alone with them. That includes you too, Snowstorm."

The silver-blue she-cat opened her mouth to protest, before closing them and nodding, "Of course, Flakestar."

The three of them padded out of the den as they saw the old tom lean down at the two kits whose eyes had just snapped open from the commotion. They padded in silence until they were out of earshot of the medicine cat den. Snowstorm grumbled as she placed a paw on the ground, sinking her deep claws into the coarse ground, "Of course he would tell me to leave."

Visibly confused, he cocked a head at her, "What do you mean?"

The silver-blue she-cat turned on him, a flash of disdain and fury in her eyes, "He doesn't think I'm ready to be leader, he thinks I shouldn't be close to him and assist him with important things. I'm his deputy, I should help with these things!"

She blinked, pools of tears beginning to form in her deep jet-black eyes. Soaringstrike blinked, not sure what to make of this outburst, "I'm sure he has his reasons…"

The she-cat looked away, quietly contemplating something, "I suppose. But if he didn't want me to help, why make me deputy in the first place!"

Soaringstrike reminisced the day she was made deputy, everyone was shocked and surprised. She was young, she seemed inexperience and incapable of leading. But something shone in her, a potential that the old leader must have noticed that no cat else did. He looked over at the she-cat beside him, she was still that brash and stubborn she-cat she once was; however, she was more refined, confident, ready to jump at a challenge. He was training her to be a strong leader, one that Rimeclan needed in this time of weakness. He shook his head, he didn't want to disclose this to her as she was venting. The fumes of her anger rippling through her bristling fur, it was better to keep it from her for now.

Petalpool and him left her to burn it out, they stood no chance to calming the rage-filled she-cat. They stepped out into the centre of the clearing, cats were beginning to file out of the camp, going on dawn patrol, setting out for hunting parties, it was all organised and ready. By the time they came back, Flakestar would be ready to announce his decision to the clan. He was certain that either way, some cats will be left upset at his solution, but it was their leader, they had to listen to him.

Petalpool looked up towards him. He didn't even notice that her eyes were trained on him until she coughed, alerting him to her. Some of the shine had reignited the flames in her eyes, he knew she was up to something. A smirk crawled across her face and Soaringstrike's eyes dropped, he knew where this was leading to.

"So… About what we agreed on yesterday at the river…"

She stood there fluttering her eyes innocently as he growled softly, then he stopped. This could cheer her up, and furthermore, he could toy with her. A grin spread across his own face which replaced her smirk with a frown.

"With the kits?"

She pouted, sticking out her tongue and turning to face away from him. He let out a hearty chuckle as he rushed ahead of her, "I'm joking, of course I remember. I'm a tom of his words."

A small smile lifted across her face as she joined his chuckle with a giggle, "You've got elder duty."

He sighed but padded off towards the elder's den in glee for the first time, he had cheered her up, that was enough for him. The elder's den was right next to the nursery, a certainly nice place for kits to play in. The old bark, moss and lichen that the den was made of were almost as old as the cat it hosted. _Almost._

With that thought in mind, he padded in with a smirk. Immediately, the milky and glazed eyes of the elder brown tom were trained on him. A tiny crack in his mouth indicated his happiness.

"Ah. A young 'un." His voice cracking in age. He let out a raspy cough, as he gave a half-shattered smile.

"Woah, woah, woah! If I'm a young one, what are kits and apprentices to you?" He responded with a slight tease.

The ancient tom cracked a raspy chuckle, "Between ye' and me, I don't know if we can consider them cats yet."

Soaringstrike let out a laugh, Ol' Mahogany was always funny, probably a genetic trait or maybe something he developed with age. It wasn't actually a chore that any cat hated, tending to the elders, or elder, but it wasn't always the most fun task. They had to work quite a while on Ol' Mahogany who didn't even know what they were doing half the time and Maneroar who was prone to snapping at cat's paws.

He looked at the ancient tom in front of him, "Well I've been tasked to help you clean out your moss and look for ticks, hopefully without having to deal with them."

The old tom let out a raspy chuckle, "I may be ol' bones but I still know da' way to keep them little blood-suckers out of me pelt."

"Woah, you've got quite a lot of secrets to teach me then, especially how you lasted so long." Soaringstrike purred as he leaned down to the moss beginning to rip it out.

"Ah, ye' only need to growl at death and that mouse-dung of a cat will flee ye'."

The old tom looked quite proud of himself and Soaringstrike could do nothing but roll his eyes in amusement. His eyes began wandering off though, his thoughts torn to the words of the old tom. Death? Could it be what he saw in his dreams? Certainly not, right? He didn't die or wasn't in any immediate threat of dying and he would only be seen when a cat died, right?

His thoughts were torn a way by a light raspy screech, "Watch where ye' but ye' claws!"

He looked back down at his claws, tugging at a few tufts of Ol' Mahogany's fur, "Sorry!"

"Ah! Whatever be on ye' mind young un'?" He muttered, looking knowingly at him as if he could read his minds.

"Oh! It's nothing, just a stupid dream." Soaringstrike murmured back at him in response, eager to relax the old tom's worries about him.

"Come now. There is no such thing as 'just a stupid dream'," He reprimanded him with a berating stare, he shook his head, gesturing him to come closer to him, "Ye' either have none a dream or something much more important!"

Soaringstrike thought about his dream, it did seem out of place in his defence. Not that he would know, of course, he never really had many dreams. He shook his head, "Actually yeah, I suppose you're right, it didn't feel like an ordinary dream."

The old tom cracked a smile, "Ya' see! That's the spirit young un'!"

He knew he had a chance to open up to this elder tom, he was old but age equalled wisdom, right?

"Well there was a weird dreamland and then there was darkness." He recalled, looking directly at the elder's eyes. He saw his eyes glaze over in thought.

"Go on…" He pressured him onwards.

"Well there was this laugh and a burst of flames erupting from every direction…" He continued nervously as he looked uncomfortably in every direction away from the elder tom's eyes. Surely he would think he was insane?

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the den dropped to a cold, tense silence. The old cat looked up at him with widened eyes of shock, nearly terror-looking. His mouth formed a circle as he gasped in a sharp intake of breath, "Oh."

He shivered, not from cold but from fear as if he personally knew something about these dreams, the piercing eyes of his scanning throughout his body, staring him down, examining every fine detail of his. Soaringstrike was getting creeped out, the brown tom below him was eerily still, "Do you know anything about this?"

The question floated through the air piercing through the old tom. His gaze landed upon Soaringstrike's body as he grew further and further uncomfortable. The elder tom closed his eyes with a jerk of terror before breathing in to calm himself down. He gazed right at him and a spark of seriousness glimmered in his devoid eyes. With a quake in his voice he began;

"Have I ever told ye' about the Troths?"

* * *

A/N: Another good day, written in basically two hours! Don't know how long this streak will last though. Oh well. Anyways it seems Soaring is about to get the rundown on this Troth thing (Winks into camera). Will he accept it? Keep reading and waiting to find out! Well, that's it for now, hope you enjoy this chapter. Submit OCs if you want! Submissions won't close until you hear it from me down in these notes got it? Well cya!


	6. Chapter 4: Storm of Fury

Chapter 4: Storm of Fury

"I have, you've told me of this story, everyone of this story." Soaringstrike rolled his eyes as the elder tom. Everyone respected Ol' Mahogany, he was legend himself, the oldest cat to ever live. Yet to this day, he remains lively and adamant. The Troths exist to him. It wasn't upon Soaringstrike to tell him otherwise, he deserved to live out his dreams, even if they were mere kit tales.

"Ah! Yes, but ye' don't listen anytime." The brown tom's eyes dropped, his voice dripping in rusty disappointment.

Soaringstrike's eyes widened, he didn't ignore him, surely the old cat would understand that he wanted to rather let him dream on. He was like many others, not believing in the stories of Troths. However, he respected this elder tom, he should be allowed to continue believing in his own.

"No! We've been hearing what you say!" He yowled at the tom. He didn't want to be seen by the elder cat as arrogant or unwilling. Anyone there, listening to these raspy rants would just silently continuing, not willing to correct him. Could he not see that? They were hearing him, they didn't want to silence him.

The old brown tom just shook his head and sighed. No spark of hope left in his eyes. Soaringstrike was taken aback, the tom's eyes had just lost all the joy it bore, all the amusement it stored from just then. Within a few moments it had dimmed to nothingness, the shattering of belief, the losing of hope.

"Aye, ye' guys hear, but ye' never listen…"

With a jolt, all thoughts and actions ceased in his body. Soaringstrike was shocked, not of the truth he spoke, but of the pain that was born from his words. Of course the Troths weren't real? Were they? The only reason he and any other cat didn't truly listen to him was because they didn't believe him. They didn't believe in the Troths. They didn't exist to them. But surely, there had to be a reason that the elder tom did. Perhaps he was right. They should listen.

In silent shock, he sat down in front of him, awaiting for his words. The den was silent, not a breeze came from the entrance, nor the chirps of birds outside. Despite this, a deafening chill shockwaved through the den, the sounds of their breaths reverberated off the walls. And as the elder tom spoke, he began envisioning the stories of long ago, wisps of images flickering in his view.

"Many moons ago, there was a time…"

There was a sharp intake of breath as the elder tom's accent cleared to an eerily ordinary voice. The den stood still, silence from every direction, no flutter of wind or butterfly wings. Just his voice and their breathing.

"There was a time, when there were only one. One race of cat. Normal. No magic, no power. There was a time, so far gone, that no one truly knows if it is true.""

The tom gasped for air, waiting for a bit as Soaringstrike curled into a comfortable position waiting for him to continue, "But what is known. One day, the first magic kit appeared. And then more, and more, and more!"

The yowling from the den should have been loud enough to have alerted many from out in the camp but for some reason, it seemed they didn't hear it. Soaringstrike didn't know what to make of it, so he retrained his eyes back on Ol' Mahogany.

"I hear it every day," The elder cat sighed, his head laying down onto his paws and tail, "The voices of my own elders, their warnings not to trust of these cats. Apparently they knew something I never did."

He looked directly in Soaringstrike's orange eyes and squinted, a stare forming upon him. He felt the discomfort of being stared at and looked away briefly, ignoring the trained eyes on him

"They were scared, everyone didn't know about them yet. And yet we soon realised the potential of this power and we began to praise it as it brought us prosperity."

The head of the old tom dipped down slowly, deep in thought or perhaps tired? Soaringstrike didn't know, but his ears flicked at the thought of a time where no cat had powers. Was there ever such a time? He had never heard of such a time and he couldn't really believe it.

"At this time, a little she kit began her training in a now long forgotten clan, Scarletclan…"

Soaringstrike's eyes widened as he gasped in shock. He had heard about the fabled clan, Scarletclan. Apparently they had mysteriously died out from a disease or something. The lands and territories of theirs were never to be trespassed upon. But one day, it had vanished. Any trace of them being there gone. Their camp had disappeared, border markings and anything that had been built by the cats of the disappeared clan had just been whisked away, disappearing into thin air. What was left of their territory was apparently carved up and divided among Emberclan and Canopyclan.

The elder tom stopped to look at his gobsmacked expression and nodded, "Yes, the same mythical clan you've all been told as a kit. An exciting story of mystery, one to surely give any ordinary kit chills up their spine."

"Well too bad it's just a story." The brown tom dismissed his disbelief with a flick of his tail.

"What?!" Soaringstrike growled, taken aback by the surprise and disbelief. He was confused as to why he was suddenly disproving his own stories.

The tom cat cracked a small smile, a chipped tooth hanging out in a sly manner, "Oh but not all the tale. While certainly yes, most of the tale is false and just kit fantasy."

He paused looking directly at the eyes of Soaringstrike's, "But some parts, some aspects, they are true."

The old tom looked away and blinked before continuing, "You see, while this clan might have never existed and while there is no proof to say whether there was ever a time where no cat had magic."

The breath of the elder began rapidly increasing as he rasped, gasping for air, "There was certainly the she-cat, the one with blazing eyes of ruby destruction and topaz joy. The joy of destruction."

The elder's breath began waning as his words dozed off, his eyes beginning to close, "That cat… she was the first… and she promised to me… she would come back… in a wild fury… a storm… a storm of fury…"

Gentle snores was all that remained of the impassionate speech. Soaringstrike did not know what to make of his words. Did he mean to say that his dreams were a prophecy forcoming the return of this she-cat? Surely not. No. They were just dreams, and like this elder's stories, should only be taken in as such.

He felt better, perhaps the elder wasn't being crazy. Maybe Ol' Mahogany was just trying to cheer him up with his spooky antics. He put on a nervous smile, that was reassuring. At least he was trying. He padded out of the elder den, leaving the old tom to sleep soundly. There was no point in changing the moss in his nest if he was already sleeping in it. He twitched his nose in amusement, happy to get off not doing as much dirty work. Maybe the hunting patrols have come back, maybe they had prey he could snatch some freshkill off. He was famished, perhaps the stories were good for something. Passing the time.

It was already sunhigh, time for Flakestar's decision. Just on cue, the hunting patrols and dawn patrols began returning to camp, every cat should be here. He padded off towards the centre of camp, looking around for Petalpool. She wouldn't want to miss this, she was pretty fond of the two kits. Maybe she hoped to mentor one of them when they grew of age? Or maybe… They would be accelerated.

It wouldn't be the first or even be unlikely. It has been done for the past few apprenticeships, done to speed up the recovery of the clan. Soaringstrike frowned, he didn't agree with it, but he did understand the rationale. Flakestar knew the clan had to recover quickly and did the only logical thing. Speed up warrior development and thus warrior gain. Kits of at least four moons or so would be apprenticed. They would be warriors by their ninth or tenth moon. It was risky and it certainly went against the warrior code and any honour they had. But to recover the clan from the disaster that had occurred just so recently… Every cat solemnly understood and agreed.

There was no reason these two kits would be different. Flakestar would certainly see the need of these two kits, replacements for lost cats in the war. Soaringstrike felt relieved. For some reason, deep inside the core of his body, he knew. They were going to stay. It made him feel ecstatic, it made him feel joyous. He didn't know why he would care about these two kits. Perhaps he was just honourable, or perhaps he didn't want to go against his leader's word about the morality of throwing out kits into the Rimeclan wild. Whatever the case, he was just glad they were going to stay.

He looked out towards the group of cats that were beginning to clump around the centre. He saw the distinguishing brand of orange colour among the waving tails. Petalpool's tail. He smirked, before manoeuvring his way to the side of her. The she-cat glanced up at him and returned his smile, "Seems like you had the same revelation?"

Soaringstrike cocked his head, before it hit him. Of course his sister would also see the logic behind the decision of the kits. He gave a silent chuckle, careful not to let a word slip to any other cat, "Yeah. There is no way he lets them go!"

His sister gave him a small frown, her eyes squinting a bit in a calculative way, "Don't jinx it just yet."

With that silent mutter, a loud booming voice was heard. Despite his old age, his yowl was still loud and clear. Brimmed with authority and cracked with wisdom.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here at the camp centre!"

Most cats murmured in excitement the group shuffling, pushing and pulling as more cats joined in. Every cat knew what this was about, they knew it was going to be the deciding verdict.

"As most of you already know, last sundown, two of our warriors, Soaringstrike and Petalpool…"

A few murmurs sounded at her name and a couple of cats shot hostile glares at her. Soaringstrike immediately bristled, returning any cat's glare at her with an equally powerful one of his own. Flakestar cleared his throat, his blue eyes staring at all the cats in front of him with disapproval.

"As I was saying. Those two brought back two kits." Flakestar padded backwards, turning his back towards them as he continued his announcement. A cat within the crowd huffed, many others muttered nervously among themselves, shuffling in discomfort.

"Two traitors, two despicable kits!" A random cat howled, there were many mutters of approval while other's stood silence in shock and question.

"Enough!" The white furred tom growled in disappointment, turning back to face the crowd, his eyes flaring in fury, "No more words of outburst! We shall settle this civilly."

Most of the clan stood silent, answering to the command of their leader. His words sent shockwaves, ripples of authority and fear throughout many. Soaringstrike couldn't help it though. His pelt began burning up in rage at the cat who had dared called them traitors.

"Flakestar…"

A single whisper among the silent crowd, a silent question and asking voice. Soaringstrike recognised that voice instantly, his fur blowing up. What was he intending to do?

"What is it Icecrow?" The old leader sighed in exasperation, his ears flicking in annoyance as his tail swished impatiently.

"You're not really thinking of taking those two kits in, are you?" The black tom asked with apathy. A single glare, a single demanding question. He was challenging Flakestar.

The white tom glared back, his eyes burning. Then he relaxed, widening his eyes as a thought glazed through his eyes. Icecrow seemed to recognise this too, stepping back and smirking. The elder leader hummed for a moment before returning the smirk.

"Of course not. I wouldn't dream of keeping them as kits…" Flakestar responded, smiling in agreement with the dark tom.

Icecrow's smirk grew to a full-grown smile, one of pride and arrogance. He glanced to Soaringstrike and Petalpool, eyes glinting in victory.

He couldn't believe it. How? Soaringstrike's face fell in complete disbelief as he felt a pain in his heart. He glanced over to his sister. She was rigid, unmoving. She had not reacted to Flakestar's words. How was she standing with such resolve at the hearing of this decision? Was she intending to challenge him?

But as he looked at her eyes, he saw something. A glimmer of hope. She had not despaired. She had been looking directly at Flakestar, unwavering. Even when Icecrow looked over to gloat, she did not turn to face him. She knew something he did not.

Then, just as this realisation dawned upon him. The white leader continued his statement, "That being said, I said I would not take them in as kits. But I did not say I would not take them in as apprentices…"

Complete silence. Awe. You could hear the whisper of the flowing wind above, devoid of any sound. Nothing. And then all at once. Rowdy howls, disbelief across many cats faces. Arguments and counterarguments. It seemed a fight would break out at any moment. He looked over to Icecrow, his smirk completely wiped off his face. His mouth open in pure disbelief and shock. This was the plan all along Flakestar? How smart. Teaching a lesson to the clan while determining the verdict, two birds with one claw. He glanced back over at his sister, she had finally cracked a muscle. A smile, her eyes shining with relief. She had seen through his plans. He understood now why she didn't falter at his initial announcement. Pride spread throughout his body, radiating off his fur.

"Moreover, I feel as if Petalpool and Soaringstrike should be the mentor of those two." The crowd exploded in an uproar again. He and his sister both jolted in surprise at this, however they were excited by the prospect of their first apprentices Flakestar just waited for the shouts of disapproval to die down, with a smirk, before continuing.

"We all know that they were the first to find them and the kits first saw them. Obviously, this would make them quite attached to each other. They would both be more comfortable together in this arrangement, wouldn't you agree?" The tom swished his tail in the air as the reasoning began cementing itself within each and every cat's mind.

Still, there was one cat that was adamantly standing against it, one cat that would not budge on the matter. _Icecrow._

"Even if. You're giving an apprentice to her," He spat, pointing to his sister accusingly, "Do you think she's qualified to train one? Starclan! She has helped kill kits!"

Soaringstrike silently growled, his rage building up into a dark flame of rage over his body. How dare he even dare attempt to accuse her of kit killing?! He unsheathed his claws, sinking them deep into the coarse soil below, ready to swipe at the dark tom's throat.

Before he could pad up to the dark tom and show him the true meaning of killing, Flakestar stepped in, calmly placing a paw against his chest. He winked at him before turning around to meet Icecrow's dark eyes, "Well I don't see you volunteer to train this kit. If you truly disagree and wish to save the lives of the kits from Petalpool, you can train one of these kits. How about it?"

Icecrow's eyes flared, his anger building up, burning the air around him dangerously hot, "A non-clan kit? Never!"

He whipped around and stormed out of the camp entrance. Many cats stared at him as he went and murmured uncomfortably among themselves.

Flakestar sighed and looked at the remaining cats, "Well if there are no other dissidents, shall we hold the official ceremony?"

* * *

Silver sniffed the air around her. No. She wasn't Silver anymore. Her new mother had donned her a new name, one best fitting for her. SilverFear. A true name. One such variant of names that only they could use. Troths that is.

The surrounding forest was dark. Dark as silver, snuffed of all light but her own radiating power. She wasn't aware however and even if, she didn't care. Her new mother had donned her a mission when she had donned her this name. She would stop at nothing to complete it.

She silently phased through the forest, not caring about anything, not thinking about much. The forest shifted, the flowers below her wilted. The very ground she tread on, the soil turned silver, poisoned and corroded. She moved the forest at will, it was attuned to her. She commanded it with its inherent emotions. Yes, in a few days, she had learnt of her great powers. In silence, she had found power. In emotions, she had found control.

Even plants did not escape fear.

She burst out of the forest, a million rays of silver and darkness shattering as she escaped the dark woods. Curling trends of wisps twined around her. She looked around. Rows and rows of twoleg dens and wooded walls for many fox-leaps forward. Nothing but the endless maze of twoleg filth. The air around her was intoxicating, disgusting. It ranked of crowfood and death. She ignored it, it was nothing compared to her own darkness. Her ears flicked in every direction, sensitive due to her mother's training with her. She could pinpoint any sound, distinguish whatever it was in an instant. She had been left impressed by her skills. Quite talented she praised her. Unfortunately, this place was nothing if not filled with pointless and countless number of sounds. She just had to make do without them. She had heard of this place she was now in, one of twoleg creation, one of disgust to her and her mother.

She growled silently, her voice vibrating in her throat darkly. It was better to get what was needed and get out. She hated every little moment she would have to spend here. Padding on the rough ground below, she sprinted through the twoleg place. She was small, yes, but her new mother was tough. She managed to make her small body work. It didn't need to be strong, it just had to be quick. Her true strength would come from the enemy themselves.

Speaking of which… The pawsteps behind her, the filthy scent of crowfood and twoleg trash. No doubt. These twoleg place cats were after her. Around her. Their laughs echoed off the twolegden walls as they filled every part of her body. She stood still, waiting for their arrival.

On cue they appeared from the shadows of the twoleg den walls, smirks on their faces. She closed her eyes, grimacing at their very sight. They were all disgusting. Unkempt fur, filth stuck to their fur, dried blood matted on their faces and scars ringing across their bodies. Even so, the mere sight of these cats would send any ordinary cat running, no less a kit like her.

But she wasn't a normal cat. Her new mother had told her so.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A dark tom cat in front of her cackled. SilverFear opened her eyes to a face riddled with scars and ripped fur, she had wished she had kept her eyes closed. She shuddered internally at their very being. Her mother was right, they deserved to die just for being disgusting wastes. But… Perhaps they had their uses…

"A little kitty-witty? Maybe lost, separated from her twolegs?" An imitation of a sad, lonely kit came from beside her, another tom cat, probably with similar features. She gave off a silent growl. She had not killed them yet, they should consider themselves lucky.

"Don't worry kit, we'll bring you safely home." The cat in front of her smiled evilly, laughing with ill-intent. It was time for her to turn it around, she wanted to taste their fear. She wanted them to suffer as she had.

"I'll give you a chance," She muttered out to them, closing her eyes slowly, her voice low and dark, "You can either, run away fast, but I won't guarantee you will live. Cooperate with me. Or…"

Her eyes flashed opened, her claws unsheathed around her, a few dark wisps of smoke began curling from her body, "Die."

There was silence for a few moments, then laughter. Exactly as mother predicted. They wouldn't take her seriously, so she had to convince them of her conviction.

The toms kept laughing their eyes closing and opening slowly, a few teardrops even splashed down their face, "What little kit thinks they can take us on?"

Their smiles were plastered across their face as she cocked her head, her own dark smile spreading across her face, "This little kit."

Suddenly, an orb of darkness surrounded them, enveloping them in silvery void. The smiles from the cats' faces dropped as they looked around them confused and in shock. They were shuddering, afraid, their tears of laughter beginning to change to those of despair and fear. She relished every moment of it.

"Wha-t-t is going on?!" They exclaimed simultaneously, terror dripping from their voices.

SilverFear licked her lips, the taste of fear was the only thing that had flavour to her. And she loved it. In an instant, the dark orb surrounding them collapsed back in on itself, silent screams of terrors were cut short. They were all dead… Par one.

She had specially kept him alive. A bloodied dark-furred tom stood keeled over in front of her, desperately gasping for air, desperately trying to stay alive. The tom that had been right in front of her, the taunts he had spat at her, she wouldn't forget. Torturous fear, everlasting terror. That was his punishment. A special death, just for him. A fear so dark, it would drown his soul forever, even past death. Plus, the tom could give her the information she needed to accomplish her task.

She slowly padded towards him in silence, nothing but a smirk on her face, the glint of joy in her eyes reflecting off the terror in the tom's irises, "What are you?! Please! Don't kill me!"

She cocked her head towards him, "Don't worry, you won't die yet, I still need you."

She leaned in close to his ears, "Of course, you could die instead if you want. Your choice."

The tom shivered silently, nodding his head repeatedly in terror. SilverFear flashed a smile of pure malice, "I need to find a cat, his name is Speartail. Where can I find him?"

The cat looked up, opening his mouth slowly, shuddering from both pain and fear, "Ye-s-s! Hi-s been wander-in-ing the twoleg place with-ith a few other cats! He's har-d-d to mis-s, he smells-s of ice and fores-st!"

SilverFear placed a paw on the ground, furiously scratching out the hard pavement. This may have proved harder than intended. She had thought he would be staying in one place, having settled in to regain strength and numbers. No matter, she had a task directly from mother. She won't fail her.

"Thank you I suppose." She padded up towards him placing a paw on his forehead, "Your information was most desirable."

The dark tom looked up at the paw on his head, "What-at-t are you goin-ing to do with-th me now?"

SilverFear turned away in silence for a while, a smile forming across her face.

"I did say you wouldn't die yet since I needed you," She paused maliciously before whipping around to face the tom, displaying a single silver eye flashing with craving, "Unfortunately for you, you've outlived your need."

The tom's eyes widened as he screamed as a final plead. It was cut short. A single sharp silver tendril stabbing his forehead through with her paw. SilverFear stood still for a moment, silver fluids dripping from the hole in the tom's head. She breathed it in, the smell of it. She relished the taste of it.

She was most certainly, the Troth of Fear…

* * *

A/N: Hey look, a wild Silver has appeared. That was a pretty intense ending. I just wanted to shed a bit of light on what's been going on with Silver. Well, I guess she's not Silver anymore. Then again if you've read the allegiances you would have already seen this coming. Oh well, little easter egg and all. Well yeah, I guess that's it for the Author Notes, don't know what else to add. So yeah, submit OCs and whatnot, like, follow, review, I don't really know. Well cya guys then!


End file.
